Howling Dragon
by rinnyroo
Summary: When a mysterious witch curses Hermione to age beyond her years, it’s up to her to find out how to break it. Will Draco find out its her in disguise or will she spend the rest of her youth as an old woman?


**Disclaimer: I do not own a single thing. Although I wish I had a real life Draco in my grasp ;)**

 **A.N.**

 **This fanfic idea came from a discussion I posted on strictlydramione about a cross between Howls Moving Castle and Dramoine. It's mostly for myself, but hey, if you enjoy it that's cool, too. :)**

Slip, slip, pull, loop.

Slip, pull, slip, loop.

"Bullocks." Hermione muttered under her breath.

She delicately pulled the ruby thread, undoing the woven yarn until her mistake was erased. She smiled to herself as she knit the last of fabric, pulling up her masterpiece in awe.

She didn't know when exactly she got the idea to start knitting. Molly Weasley had been more than happy to supply her with needles and yarn, pulling her away for at least an hour while the rest of the Weasley clan scrambled outside for a game of quidditch. She was patient with Hermione as she fumbled, and gave immense praise when Hermione had achieved a lopsided looking bit of scarf.

Hermione took her work in progress home with her that day. As soon as she was off work she'd continue, sipping her tea and allowing her fingers to gradually become faster and more precise. She worked hours and hours until finally at the following brunch she presented Molly with the wonky, long scarf .

"Oh Hermione that's _wonderful_!"

The warm matriarch made a point to show everyone, much to Hermione's mixed embarrassment and pride.

"Well, well mum. Looks like someone is trying to steal your Christmas gift idea." Fred smiled behind his coffee cup.

"Oh shush, Fred!" she smacked his shoulder, but she smiled at him lovingly. Ever since the end of the war when Fred had nearly died, she was overly protective of her middle son. She didn't spend nearly as much time harping on the twins about their practical jokes or cheeky comments.

Hermione kept the scarf as a reminder of her first accomplishment, and soon was prowling the arts and crafts stores in both the muggle and Wizarding worlds, grabbing as many patterns and colors of yarn as she could. She began knitting more scarves, then hats, then blankets. Soon she made little cozies for her coffee cups and cute little stuffed animals she gave to Teddy Lupin, who ecstatically asked for more every visit . She had found the hobby rather therapeutic, giving her something to do with her hands and a mental break from the world around her. Merlin knew she still read constantly, and her small apartment had shelves overflowing with text, but every couch and chair also had a lovely throw over it as well. She was at peace and content with her life. Going to work at the ministry in the morning, returning to a good book or project at night, meeting up with Harry and the Weasley's every Sunday. It was her routine, and given the fact she had spent years running for her life and figuring out a way to defeat the Dark Lord, she was more than happy to settle into it.

"Blimey, Moine . You really are turning into an old maid."

Hermione scowled at Ron and tried to ignore Harry and George's snickering into their eggs.

Ron had spent the 2 years following the war basking in glory. He traveled and drank and spent much of his time entertaining a fair amount of women, much to Hermione's displeasure. Throughout their Hogwarts years he often teased Hermione about not doing anything "interesting" besides reading or studying. She'd never admit it to him, but it hurt her feelings deeply. She knew that at her age she should probably be going out a little more but she found it rather annoying to be near overly loud music and waking up to a hang over.

Harry had gone on to the ministry as an Auror, just as everyone knew he would. He'd worked for some time helping the ministry catch the fleeing death eaters as well as a few more hostile groups. However after two years the emotional and physical drain had been too much, and he'd confided in Hermione that he spent much of his life fighting evil, and he wanted to _live_. So he quit his job, with promises that if he ever changed his mind he had a position always, and took some time to travel with Ron. After a few months he decided what he really wanted to do was play quidditch, and was immediately recruited with the Harpy's.

Hermione didn't feel put out about it. Ron and Harry were simply growing into different people, while she stayed very much the same. She still had her same undetectable handbag from when they were on the run. She still drank her tea the same. She still packed the same lunch to work everyday (turkey and lettuce on wheat). She was very much Hermione Jean Granger.

Hermione laid out her newest creation flat on her sofa, smoothing it out slightly and admiring it. It was a brilliant red sweater, her first, that she knit for herself. The collar and cuffs were a delicate gold. It was simple, but an obvious homage to her former House. Content with her work, she sat for a moment sipping her tea.

Ron's comment last Sunday about being an old maid had had irked her. She felt the immediate need to defend herself, perhaps even prove him wrong. But even her spontaneous reactions generally were something she had given thought to at some point and time. She sighed and pulled herself up, deciding maybe a new book would cheer her up. She pulled on her new sweater and went to her floor length mirror to inspect herself.

Ruthlessly curly chestnut locks cascaded her shoulders and nearly reached the middle of her back. She looked back at her own brown eyes, dusted brown freckles on lightly tanned skin, and fat lips. No doubt the reason she was often called "big mouth". That, as well as her overwhelming need to educate or correct others. The sweater she made was a tad large, but fairly comfortable. Despite her somewhat petite frame she always ended up in clothes about a size or larger than she needed. Ginny often tried to push her own form fitting pieces on Hermione, but the one time she did she felt so uncomfortable (what with the stares from Harry and the other Weasley boys) that she ended up changing within an hour.

Hermione sighed and picked up her bag, making sure to duck her wand in her pocket, then headed to her fireplace to floo to Diagon Alley.

It was later in the evening, and the streets were astonishing less crowded considering the new school year was a mere week away. Hermione set off towards Flourish and Blotts, stopping only for a moment to admire a new cauldron set complete with vials and ladles displayed in a shop window, but after seeing the price quickly turned and resumed her journey.

The book store was humming with a few people taking in hushed tones, and Hermione took a deep breath, basking in her favorite smell of fresh literature. The store was cramped and the aisles were slightly to small for two people to walk down side by side, but she absolutely adored it. Over the summers before school when she came to get her school supplies she'd spend at least a day or two huddled in a corner like a junkie who got their fix. She set towards the new release shelf excitedly, politely excusing herself to a gaggle of young witches who were huddled around a group of books.

"Oh Mary just _look_ at him."

"He's absolutely gorgeous."

"Beyond gorgeous! Just look at his eyes. I could stare at him forever."

"Not to mention he's filthy rich."

"I'd date him even if he wasn't. Besides, I hear he has _other_ reasonably large assets."

"Merlin, Patrice!"

The girls giggled and Hermione glanced over to the wizarding magazine they were all huddled around. On the shelf next to them was a book Hermione desperately wanted to read, so she awkwardly began to itch over and excused herself again.

"I'm sorry do you mind if-"

"OH MY GOD. YOURE HERMIONE GRANGER!"

Five sets of eyes turned immediately to her and Hermione felt briefly like a prey cornered by lionesses.

"Oh. Uh-well, yes..."

A couple of girls squealed and they began parading her with praise and questions. Hermione grew very embarrassed and her neck blossomed red as she meekly smiled.

"Is it true you broke into Gringotts?!"

"I heard you can speak four languages!"

"What's Harry Potter like in real life?"

"Hey, didn't _you_ go to school with _him_?"

A shorter girl with dirty blonde hair raised up the magazine they were reading and pointed to the cover. The other girls turned expectantly for her answer.

Hermione paused for a moment to glance over the cover, followed almost immediately by an unattractive mix between a scoff and laugh.

On the cover, wearing black robes that were undoubtably designer and quite expensive, was Draco Malfoy.

He had definitely grown into himself a little more, with more pronounced sharp features than all out pointy. His pale blonde hair was messy, probably to seem more roguish and his eyes gazed forward with a penetrating stare, the wizarding camera catching his mouth curling into his signature smirk. The headline read,

 _BAD BOY TURNED GOOD._

"Oh yeah. I went to school with him." Resisting the urge to roll her eyes. It's not that she necessarily hate him anymore, but she certainly didn't care for him and the three times she'd seen him at benefits since the battle of Hogwarts he completely ignored her. Not that she went up and talked to him either, but the few times she attempted to be civil and at least acknowledge him he never even looked in her direction.

The girls were all amazed and impressed. Pressing Hermione further but she kept her answers somewhat vague. She didn't think it would be wise to start bad mouthing Draco Malfoy in front of his fan club. They eventually said goodbye (after making Hermione sign over Draco's picture) and left .

Hermione finally turned to the book she wanted, finding herself greedily reading the first new chapters as well as a few others. This was how she preferred her Saturday nights. Maybe she was just some old maid, but she was happy.

She hasn't realized how much time had gone by until the store had grown quiet and the lamps came on, so she hurriedly grabbed her stack and went up front to make her purchase.

The shop keep had gone missing, so Hermione stood for a moment until calling out.

"Hello?"

Nothing.

She set the books on the counter and began looking around the store.

"Hello? Is anyone here?"

She quickly realized that the store was completely empty except for herself.

She pulled out her wand and set behind the register, nervously peaking towards the back office. The light was off, and Hermione debated for a moment if she should just apparate when she heard the shop bell jingle.

A thin, very pretty woman came strolling in. Her red hair was pulled neatly into a bun, and she was wearing quite nice grey robes . She seemed to size Hermione up for a moment, and the smile she graced afterwards let Hermione know she certainly wasn't pleased to see her. They remained silent as the women continued towards her.

Hermione felt the tingle of magic washing over her, and realized in horror that this women had used wandless magic against her. She went to raise her wand but found she was absolutely paralyzed. Had her face not been frozen in curiously she would be screaming.

The woman was at least half a foot taller than her. Her heels made soft clicks against the beaten hard wood floors. As she drew nearer, Hermione could see that her eyes were almost violet.

"You _would_ shop in a tacky little place like this wouldn't you, Hermione Granger?"

The woman began to circle around Hermione, touching her curls with disgust.

"Plain... Jane... bookworm Granger. It amazes me that you managed to catch his attention despite yourself."

In her head, Hermione only partly listened to the woman as she attempted her own wandless magic, rattling off counter spells to every enchantment she could think off.

 _Priori incantatem!_

The woman stood before her and stared in her eyes for a moment before breaking into a wide, toothy grin. Her teeth were impeccably straight and white, and were Hermione not on the edge of panic, she might've thought of how her parents would appreciate teeth like hers.

"Don't bother with the counter spells. This is a spell I formulated entirely on my own. You're not going _anywhere_."

 _Shit!_

 _She's a legilimens._

The woman laughed. The kind of laugh that gathered attention. Not by being loud or annoying, but it sounded simply frightening.

"You know," the woman cocked her head. "I have to admit, you actually would be quite pretty if you tried. But we're not going to allow that to happen."

Hermione tried to will her body to move. Anything. A pinkie, a toe. Anything.

"Now people will finally see Hermione Granger for who she _really_ is."

Hermione's heart beat frantically fast.

" _celeriter aetatem_."

Hermione's body began to ache and writhe. Her bones felt as though they were disintegrating , her muscles weakening. Her vision grew blurry and despite her paralysis she felt her spine begin to curve painfully. It was agonizing and as the seconds quickly passed Hermione felt her life force draining her. The woman seemed to have released her paralysis spell because seconds later Hermione crashed to the ground, too exhausted to even move.

She heard the woman's cruel laughter and the distorted view of her black heels. She leaned down and there was a soft breath on Hermione's ear.

"Don't bother trying to tell anyone. You won't be able to speak a word of it. _Au revoir connasse."_

And then everything went black.

Hermione felt someone gently shaking her shoulder. Her head was pounding. The feeble attempts to move proved worthless and when she finally opened her eyes she nearly screamed at the face peering into hers.

"Madam? Madam are you alright?!"

It was Albert, the book keeper.

He was knelt beside her, his eyes worried.

"I..." Hermione croaked.

"I can't believe you were down here all night. I was sure I checked everywhere before I closed up. Are you okay? Do you think you can move?"

Hermione slightly lifted her head and knew despite her achy body she needed to get off the floor. Albert tucked his hands under her and slowly lifted her to a sitting position. She came to brush some of her hair away.

"There was a woman-"

She froze.

Her hand.

Her _hands_.

"A woman? Where?"

Her hands were shaking. She tried not to throw up as she inspected them further.

Ancient, wrinkled, age spotted hands.

"I n-need to get up."

Her voice.

That was _not_ her voice.

Albert looked severely worried.

"Maybe we should call St.Mungos. What's your name?"

"H-H..."

She cleared her throat.

"H.. my name is H.."

 _Oh god._

 _My name._

 _I can't say my name._

"Do you remember, dear?"

Hermione began to panic.

"Of course, I do! It's ... it's..."

Her mind began to scramble.

Say any name.

"Amelia Prewitt."

Albert nodded.

"Let's get you to St. Mungos Mrs. Prewitt."

Hermione shook her head.

"No, no. I'm okay. I just need to go home and lie down."

Albert obviously wasn't convinced, but he still helped Hermione to her feet.

"Where is home? I'll take you, you can use my floo network."

 _Shit. Can if I can't say my name will it even work? **Where** am I gonna go?_

 _Maybe I can apparate.._

"I think I can manage fine. I'll apparate."

"I don't think you should.."

"I can apparate." Hermione said more firmly. "I'm sorry to inconvenience you. I must.. I must have just.. forgotten where I was."

She knew Albert probably thought she had gone off the deep end. But she couldn't care less. She needed to get home. She needed to find a mirror.

As soon as she was on her feet she found her wand. Albert picked it up for her and she focused on apparating home in one piece. She closed her eyes tightly and focused on home.

With a snap she was gone.

After she realized she hadn't been splinched, she finally opened her eyes and breathed a sigh of relief.

It was home. Her knitting needles still out on the couch, the empty cup still on the table. Still exactly the same. The wards had let her in, which was a good sign. Magically she was still the same even though she couldn't say her name. She set off towards a mirror, finding it hard to keep at a leisurely place.

When she reached her bedroom door, she took a few deep breaths stepping forward.

You can do this. It's not bad. It's probably just a-

Merlin.

She was still wearing her knitted sweater, her muggle jeans, her slip on tennis shoes. But everything else was...

Old.

Her once thick brown curls were silver and coarse. Her tanned skin was marred with wrinkles and imperfections. Her eyes crinkled and when she felt up to touch them she knew it was real. Beyond any kind of appearance charm. Somehow, Hermione Granger has gone from 24 to 74.

She could feel the tears beginning to build behind her eyes, trying to will herself from completely breaking down.

 _Well, at least your looks suit your personality now,_ she thought bitterly.

For once in her life Hermione Jean Granger had no idea what to do. Exhausted and overwhelmed, she tore away from her own appearance and laid on her bed, crying herself to sleep.

 **Oh my gosh. Please let me know what you think. Like I said, this was more a fic for myself than anything, but I think it has promise. Thanks for reading!**


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